


Conflict of Interest

by Gumokoa



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tokyo Ghoul, Amoneki but not really, Anime/Manga Fusion, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I may just abandon this, No Romance, Not Beta Read, On haitus because my muse ran away, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Poor Kaneki, Shironeki | White-haired Kaneki, So yeah, Tokyo Ghoul √A Alternate Ending, Tokyo Ghoul √A Finale Spoilers, Tragedy, actually..., and i'm lazy, friendship?, ill be bacc, woah woah woah maybe not abandoned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-15 05:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11224383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gumokoa/pseuds/Gumokoa
Summary: Amon and Kaneki are stuck under the rubble. Rumble rumble, the rubble gives away.





	1. Under the Rubble: Chapter I (Amon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Tokyo Ghoul nor the characters in it.
> 
> Thanks to Obvious Pseudonym O'Flaherty (in FF) for helping me improve this chapter. (The next chapters will also be updated to match the recommendations made in this chapter, so keep an eye out for updates) You'll know when a chapter has been revised if it says so at the top of it.
> 
> Revised

 

The noise of ruble shifting.

Amon woke up abruptly and uselessly tried sitting up, having forgotten there was no space for that. The movement jostled his crushed limb which had been thankfully numb just seconds ago, and he gasped painfully. It was on fire. He was dying. He was dying he was dying _he was dying_ -

Amon pulled: hard. He didn't stop when heat prickled his pinned limb in warning, he did stop however when he felt a hot sticky liquid on him. It was comfortably warm, and for some reason, calmed Amon from the panic. That was until he smelled the coppery scent and heard the agonizing grunt.

Kaneki's kagune was spread through the whole support beam, and even with the enormous strength they possessed, they where trembling violently under the strain. The ghoul was hovering over Amon. How he had managed to maneuver himself on top of him, Amon had no idea. The boy's blood splashed on Amon, whom he seemed, for some reason, to be protecting. The dark liquid warm and thick, the effort having opened his closing wounds. The investigator knew he should be _disgusted_. Disgusted he had to be protected and that his protector happened to be a ghoul, but he couldn't afford the energy to care.

Rumble. Rumble. The rubble gives away.

Tears of effort fell on Amon's face from the ghoul above, accompanied by louder moans, echoing the exhaustion and strain laced in in Kaneki's visage. He could feel his limb tingling, hot and pulsating as blood rushed to the site, as the pressure eased away. Pain shot up from his leg like a bullet does out of a gun, and he couldn't help the moan that escaped his lips. He was a little relieved though; pain told him he wasn't dead yet. Unlucky for him that could change really easily.

Rumble. Rumble. The rubble gives away. Crack. Sometimes flesh is tougher than bone.

 _That's not good._ "Eyepatch?" His voice was raspy, but that was as far as he would get in helping the ghoul freeing them. Pathetic.

Hearing Amon's hoarse voice seemed to be the ghoul's undoing. He opened his mouth and screamed, more warm tears hitting Amon's face, mocking him. He couldn't do anything to help. It wasn't even because he wanted to get out and get this over with, it was the screams; so hopeless and pained. It fit the ghoul in ways Amon would never understand, no matter how many times he mulled it over in his head. It was like Eyepatch was born to shout like that. His eyes wide open but unseeing.

Rumble. Rumble. A last push and the support beam is thrown off, but it is far from over.

All the weight that impeded the ghoul from freeing them came tumbling down from above. slabs and chuncks of concrete, dust like fog, and glass that threatened to slice his body. Amon scrunched his eyes tight, bracing uselessly for the weight that would be the death of him. It didn't come.

Crack. Crack. Slice.

Apparently Eyepatch wouldn't let any of it fall onto him, even if it cost him dearly.

A cloud of dust signaled it was finally over, and the youth slumped limply over Amon's probably broken ribs, completely spent. He was shaking violently, rattling every bone in Amon's body. His kagune slumped and twitched in sympathy before disappearing, turning into dust in mere moments. The wind and the taste of freedom chilled their bodies, and for a couple of seconds, everything was peaceful and quiet.

Until it wasn't.

Amons mind flashed; Red, Red, _Red_. The world boiled down to pain. Someone was shouting, wether in pain or shock, he didn't care anymore. His ears told him the sound was far away, but the strain of his vocal cords told him something else entirely. God, he was so tired, he didn't even care of what was bound to happen now that they were free. He was so tired and his leg burned and his ribs hurt and he can't breathe he can't breathe _he can't_ -

Hearing the soft whimpering brought him back from his apparently inevitable path to the sweet unconsciousness. The body on top of him shook and gasped and choked and sobed and... Amon simply could not let this happen. The animal on top of him was a ghoul, but even animals weren't supposed to suffer like that.

Animal? He doubted it would make much sense to compare him to something else other than a mere animal, right?

As carefully as posible, Amon sat up, careful not to jostle the fraile body and his own damaged one. The boy was still slumped on him, limp as a doll, yet shaking like a leaf. He was cold. So tired.

_So young._

Amon wraped his arms around the shaking form gingerly and unconsciously. Eyepatch seemed to be in a battle with his own panic for air and loosing.

_**Disgusting, you are a soft-hearted coward. Kill him now that you have the chance. Do it. He killed Mado. He killed him and he probably has killed hundreds before that. He deserves to die.** _

His arms crawling on what was left of the ghoul's back, which was covered in blood. The skin had been scraped away by stone and steel, leaving the muscles raw and exposed. Amon still huged his savior tight. That was until his hand touched a bump on the boy's shoulders. The complete fracture screamed, and Eyepatch's voice joined in, sending a wave of unwanted sympathy through the investigator. Amon left the spot alone and shushed him gently, rubbing the rest of his back to soothe the spomadic muscles. The ghoul was mumbling something, apparently had been mumbling for some time. Amon had failed to notice before.

"N-nine hundred s-sixteen, nine h-hundred nine, n-nine hundred two" the numbers were interrupted by pained gasps between them. Each one more frail than the last

It suddenly clicked, and Amon's heart sank to his stomach.

_"For the purpose of this Declaration, torture is defined as the deliberate, systematic or wanton infliction of physical or mental suffering by one or more persons acting alone or on the orders of any authority, to force another person to yield information, to make a confession, or for any other reason."_

Amon didn't mind studying torture methods and techniques in the academy, but he now wished for ignorance.

 _"Torturers make their victims recite things such as letters or numbers to ensure their victims will not disassociate from the pain, therefore making the chosen torture technique will be more effective. The victim, in recovery, might repeat the pattern. To stop the victim from having a panic attack..._ the rest of the words were lost to Amon in a hurricane of pity and guit.

He knew it was a stretch. He knew Eyepatch could be just counting to calm himself, but he doubted it.

* * *

It was like Eyepatch was born to shout like that.

* * *

 

It was like that indeed.

"e-eight hundred and n-ninety five, eight h-hundred and eighty e-eight"

The ghoul's arms hung limply by his sides, and Amon tightened his grip on the unnaturally cold body before him. "It's okay, it's over. Everything will be okay, just breathe."

It wasn't okay. His endless number recite stopped short with a pained moan.

Amon held him through his self induced panic and fear. The boy scrunched his eyes and tried to take a shaky breath, trying being the key word. He wasn't gasping anymore, but he was panting. Amon felt the boy's shoulders tense, preparing to attack him, he supposed; but he couldn't bring himself to let go just yet. In his state, he doubted the ghoul could do any damage to him anyway. To Amon's surprise, very slowly, Eyepatch moved his arms to hug the warm body back. He needed the warmth, badly. He was so cold.

Amon gritted his teeth and scrunched up his eyes tight when there was a quiet moan beside his ear, and the boy's arms fell back down, probably sore beyond belief. The crying intensified and with the little strength he had left, Eyepatch snuggled closer to the warmth to compansate the uselessness of his arms. The youth screamed, wailed and begged. Amon's eyes stung with the promise of tear as he shifted his body in response to huddle even closer and give as much comfort as he could.

It was like each of them had left who they were ment to be behind.

Investigator Amon was still stuck under the rubble, as so was Eyepatch. There was only a man holding a young man in the middle of the havoc caused between them, under the pale light of the moon. Only suffering and the little comfort that could be given. Little confort that would never be enough.

"W-why?!" The boy wept brokenly. He didn't even need to finish the question, they both understood. _Why did it have to be like this?_

"I-I don't know..." Amon didn't know how to feel. He didn't know anything other than the tickling of white hair on his neck and the cold threatening to take away what little warmth he had to offer. He didn't have answers to soothe the exhausted ghoul. He couldn't help him. And even if he could, he wasn't _meant_ to; "I don't know," he whispered it again like it could change a damn thing.

They were still investigator and ghoul. Amon, wether he liked it or not, would still be forced to kill Eyepatch. They were still enemies. The CCG would eventually find them and kill the boy without qualms or hesitation. It was just the way it was. He was a human and the boy was a ghoul.

But just this once, Amon would leave himself behind and forget.

He had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bring the flames!


	2. Under the Rubble: Chapter I (Kaneki)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revised (sorta)

To say Kaneki was exhausted was an understatement. It had been a couple of hours since he had his last meal, but the energy he had gotten from... a considerable source, didn't compare to the tons and tons on concrete over them both. Amon, much to Kaneki's relief, was still fast asleep a couple of feet from him. His leg had been crushed under the fallen pillar of concrete that supported one side of the heavy (Oh, too heavy) support beam.

Just as if to remind Kaneki of it's presence, the rubble shifted with a rumble.

Rumble rumble, the rubble gives away.

The ghoul emitted yet another distressed noise. It was too heavy and he'd have to move it soon. He couldn't carry such a burden. He couldn't do it he couldn't do it _he couldn't do-_

No, he could do it. He had suffered under a much heavier burden before anyway.

It had been so recently though, it was like the burdens just kept pilling and pilling up, threatening to topple over and on top of him. Threatening to eat him whole. And there he was, under the rubble, unable to do a single thing about it. Not doing anything, he now knew, meant killing them... Manager, Touka, Hinami, Hide, everyone.

_Were they even still alive?_

The posibility of it felt like a kick to his gut. His arms, legs, and kagune shook violently and the tensing of his stomach Forced blood out of the gaping wounds. The blood dripping in big splotches onto the dust covered ground. His hands clenched painfully on the asphalt, sending a wave of phantom pain through his fingers; _Fingers that were attached to his hands, not in a bucket_. The youth's head hanged from his neck with a pant, and with half lidded tearful eyes, he looked at the blood. Kaneki could see it, but everytime his brain insisted it was his own blood, he saw something else. It wasn't his blood... It was Hinami's, it was Touka's, it was Hide's.

Hide. Why couldn't Hide be there to tell him everything would be okay like it used to be? But no... Kaneki wouldn't be able to forgive himself if his best friend were stuck too. It was selfish to need comfort in that situation, since giving it would be the other's doom. Hide would die because Kaneki wasn't able to let a petty human die under the rubble. Hide and everyone else would suffer when (not if, _when_ ) he died. Just because of his human side.

All suffering in this world is born from an individual's incompetence.

 _And you are stuck here because of it._ His mind supplied

The thought itself brought tears prickling to the back of his eyes and made his already heavy breathing increase. He was on the border of a panic attack. He was back there. 993. In the room. 986. The wails of the man and the woman. 979. _The snap of her neck-_

 _Kaneki~! Don't you think accepting me would save ussss? a little strength to get out of here. Don't you see it? We need a little food to get out of here. You don't want your friends to suffer, right? To save something, you have to give up something else. Mr. Investigator smells good._ His mouth started watering and a pair of gentle hands ran through his hair. Rize. _Just a tiny bite of that tender and sweet fle-_

No.

 _Yes_. A whisper in his ear. The prickling of purple hair on his neck.

Kaneki took a deep shuddering breath in an attempt to calm himself and to ruin the hallucination he knew was beside him. He took another one and another one, while Amon was oblivious to it all. Had he died? Kaneki had to wonder. _Would it be fine then? if he ate just a little bit of-_

 _No_. Rize was the one dead ( _really, Kaneki?_ ). Kaneki ate her. _Ohh, but you'll join her soon if you don't stop being so useless._

That was right. He was done being useless. The ghoul would save Amon even if just to prove himself he could. That Amon was wrong. That Rize was wrong. That... Jason was wrong. Even if he would bring back a corpse to Amon's family's steps, he would do it.

_Did Amon have a family?_

Kaneki spread his kagune better throughout the support beam, and the rubble shifted again, ruining the hallucination that was babbling something about how delicious the dove looked and berating the ghoul for moving with more weight; he didn't seem to notice. The white haired one only had one goal in mind.

Save this man.

With most of the weight now on his kagune, Kaneki lied down gingerly on the floor. It was covered in cold blood. His blood. He was breathing heavily, but his weak limbs were finally resting. He slumped against the floor giving up to the beckoning of a tantalizingly flat plane. His arms spasmed, but his fingers and bloodied hands lied still, comforted in the position they had gotten used over the days. Why was he even trying? Sleep seemed like a better idea...

_Save this man._

Nothing on that Earth could stop him from trying (something on that Earth could only make it too late).

Kaneki ordered his weary limbs to hold up his weight, and they obliged, but they were shaking under his weight. As slowly as humanly possible, he crawled so he was on top of Amon. If the support broke, it certainly wouldn't fall on the investigator, not if Kaneki had a say in it. His tentacle-like kagune carefully slided form the now unoccupied spot under the beam to better accommodate his new position. The boy regretted it.

The noise of ruble shifting.

A new weight was aded to his pile of burdens, and now Kaneki knew there was no going back. Amon shot up from his sleep, almost head butting the ghoul, the man gasped, and stopped moving for a second. Until he started pulling on his leg in a frenzy. It was fine, Kaneki supposed, at least Amon was alive. For now.

The ghoul's stomach clenched painfully, and the little heat he had, escaped his body in the form of blood. It fell on top of Amon, which seemed to bring him back to his senses, perverse and eerie as it may have been.

The ghoul couldn't muffle the grunts of effort, but when they came out, they sounded rather pained. With good reason, Kaneki thought, referring not only to the fog of pain and coldness of his fingers and toes that followed him everywhere he went. It was so heavy.

Rumble. Rumble. The rubble gives away.

The youth couldn't catch the cry before it left his throat; It wasn't fair. He wanted for all of this to be over. It was too much. The ghoul couldn't help the exertion tears now openly leaving his eyes and landing on the investigator's face. It was embarrassing, Kaneki knew, but he needed all his energy for what he was doing, and feigning concern over the opinion of someone who would certainly write his death sentence wasn't in his list of priorities. He now freely moaned and grunted at the ridiculous weight he was bearing and pushing. Amon too moaned, presumably for his leg, which was now being freed.

Rumble. Rumble. The rubble gives away. Crack. Sometimes flesh is tougher than bone.

Kaneki held his breath and lifted his heavy eyelids. He had felt this kind of pain before. In that room. A complete fracture of the left scapula, a crack on his left clavicle and bruised ribs. He had a high pain tolerance, but the pain started to take a toll on him. The ghoul, however, got a grip on his pain so tight, he didn't even flinch. But he was walking on a thin rope, and he could topple over at any given time.

"Eyepatch?"

Like right then.

He opened his mouth and let the scream of his back bubble out through his throat. Kaneki opened his eyes wide in pain, like it could help. More tears left his eyes, and while they were wide open, he couldn't see. Everything was white, so bright.

So _blinding_. The pain was _blinding_. He was dying and he couldn't do anything. It was too heavy. Too heavy. Too heavy for him too heavy _too heavy-_

_Kill me... please, kill me._

The white in front of him solidified into a sudden warmth on his cheek, and while he couldn't see it, he knew it as the warmth of a hand. Not Rize's, warm but uncaring; not Jason's, cold and ruthless. They were gentle and warm, kind ( _Were they really kind, Kaneki?_ ). Mom. Or his brain's way of padding nothingness. The nothingness of the blindingly white depths of death. No light at the end of a tunnel, no life flashing before his eyes. Just nothing and the illusion of something, like it all had always been.

Rumble. Rumble. With a strength he didn't know he had, the support beam and the concrete on top were thrown away in a gentle push.

Bigger pieces of rubble fell on top of the white-haired boy. _A broken right scapula_. What felt like tonnes and tonnes of solid concrete rained from above. _A pair of broken clavicles_. But Kaneki would hold on. He would protect this man from the falling sky. It didn't matter who the man was, or if he was alive at all. Kaneki had to prove to himself he could. He had to. _Damaged acromion, ripped tentacle, cracked thoracic vertebrae, cracked ribs._

A heavy cloud of dust indicated his success and flooded his senses.

He did it.

 _I did it mom_.

His abused legs and arms buckled suddenly, unable to take any more. The youth was so cold. He landed gracelessly on top of Amon, shaking and aching. He couldn't feel his fingers.

Shaking. 993. his vocal cords raw from shouting. 986. his toes and fingers in a bucket. 979. A checkered floor. 972. A centipede... a centipede crawling in him. 965. Loneliness. So much loneliness he is drowning. 958. A woman and man dead on the floor. 952. Laughter. Laughter. The scent of blood. 945. Laughter laughter laughter laughter _laughter_ -

Amon breaks him from his spell with shouting. A blood curdling scream that makes the blood in the white-haired boy's veins turn to ice, making him even colder. A scream like the woman and man Kaneki killed.

Like his own screams.

The tormented one snapped under the pressure, and released the sobs that made his chest heavy. The sobs that made his chest heavy at night. The ones that didn't let him sleep while he was in that hell. The ones that he let out the first days of confinement. The ones he should have felt the last days of confinement and piled up even if he thought they hadn't.

He thought they hadn't just because by the end of his... confinement, all the emotions that occupied his chest were overcome by unsettling and blinding light. Darkness was ignorance, happiness, oblivion to pain, to powerlessness and to the pain of others. Light was knowledge, and knowledge is pain. But the ghoul now knew what real pain was. What real monsters were like and that they didn't restrain to the world of darkness under the bed. Knowledge that if he wanted to save his friends he would have to become stronger. To become stronger, he would have to leave them.

It was why his hair turned white. He wasn't ignorant anymore. He wasn't happy, and could never be ever again.

It was oddly poetical in a way that made him want to read in the pages of a book, not live through.

Very slowly and delicately, Amon, having gotten a grip on his own pain, sat up to blow the final strike now that his life didn't depend on the ghoul, Kaneki supposed. Said ghoul just wanted it to be quick, so he wouldn't have to suffer more. He couldn't even do anything about it, so if it had to be done, then he wanted it to be quick. The boy was helpless yet again.

Helplessness. It was a memory viscerally fresh in his mind, and he fought to take more oxygen into his aching lungs.

To his surprise, a pair of arms wrap gently around his shredded back. They crawled around Kaneki's back, that was scrubbed raw by the stone and steel and incrusted with hundreds of little stones and glass splinters. A hand reached his shoulder and bumped itself against his broken scapula, that had broken the skin to take a peek at freedom. The white haired one couldn't stop the shout, but the shout didn't manage to stop something else it seems:

"N-nine hundred s-sixteen, nine h-hundred nine, n-nine hundred two,"

Kaneki had been mumbling since the start, his mouth moving without his consent. What was the investigator doing to him? Was he just doing it because he enjoyed the ghoul's pain? (The boy didn't notice when the prodding stopped, and the hand left the spot alone, settling to rub his spomadic muscles instead. He also missed when someone tried shushing him because his ears were underwater and he couldn't hear anything without it being distorted beyond recognition).

Kankei's instincts were screaming to get up and run as fast as he could, but he couldn't even sit straight without Amon as support. He was a limp doll, and at the hands of a CCG investigator. He was as good as dead.

Something shifted in Amon's brain at his mumbling, since he tightened his grip. Kaneki's back burned were the man touched his skin— or lack thereof. But Kaneki wasn't aware of it, now in the depths of his terror. He was going to be killed.

"e-eight hundred and n-ninety five, eight h-hundred and eighty e-eight,"

The youth couldn't get enough air. He was a doll. A broken toy, and, like all broken toys, he was useful only to be broken again.

"... okay, it's o...r. Every...ng will be okay, j...st b...the."

It wasn't okay.

His lips finally rested still with a moan that rippled through him whole. Amon wouldn't kill him... yet, but that was enough. His head rested on the man's shoulder, and he scrunched his eyes tight and tried to slow his racing heartbeat. The artificial ghoul took a deep and shaky breath, but it was fruitless; he still was panting hard from the exertion, his face covered in a thin layer of cold sweat and tears. He was so cold.

Kaneki tensed his arms with the intent to hug the warmth source back, and tried to lift his aching arms enough to reach. They were so sore. The limbs flopped back down like a useless piece of meat, sending waves of pain all over his back and broken bones. He wanted nothing but to curl into a ball and rest in the warmth even if only for a minute.

He was so useless.

Unable to suppress his emotions anymore, he let go. He cried and cried and cried. Kaneki screamed and wailed and begged. He wasn't crying for the horrible past days he had expirienced, he was crying for all of it.

His mother, dead, chose her sister over him. His body, turned into a ghoul's, now his very existence was against everything Kaneki had learned. Ryouko, dead. Hinami was left without a mother or father. Kaneki couldn't be near Hide any longer. Heck, even the ones that were there to hold him through his forced metamorphosis were most likely dead. Touka-chan, Manager, Hinami, everyone.

And it was his fault.

Eyepatch snuggled closer to the warmth to compansate the uselessness of his arms, and to his relief and surprise, Amon shifted his body in response to huddle even closer, willing to give Eyepatch what little warmth he had to give.

It was like each of them had left who they were ment to be behind.

Investigator Amon was still stuck under the rubble, as so was Eyepatch. There was only a man holding a young man in the middle of the havoc caused between them, under the pale light of the moon. Only suffering and the little comfort that could be given. Little comfort that would never be enough.

"W-why?!" _Why did it have to be like this?_

_Why was the world so unfair?_

_Why was he so useless?_

Apparently Amon didn't hold his answers either.

Why would he give him the answers if he even had them? They were enemies. Ghoul and investigator. It would all come down to that.

Death was inevitable anyway, wasn't it?

At least, Amon had an ability Kaneki didn't have. Kaneki could put on a mask and act, but Amon could forget. Amon could leave himself behind. It could be that he felt in debt, or he was just as scared; to Kaneki, it was all meaningless as long as he was warm.

As long as he wasn't alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys have any questions or requests, I probably won't answer them here (since I'm stupid and don't know how to hadle this website much), but contact me through FanFiction.net and I'll be sure to answer. Thanks to everyone that supported this story!  
> (Btw, I have the same pen name in FanFiction (Gumokoa) in case you actually look for me)
> 
> Bring the flames!


	3. Rubble Gives Away: Chapter II (Akira)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not Revised

Akira ran to support the spot by Marude that was probably dying at the moment or just an arm and something that reassembled a leg. The destroyed buildings rushed beside her. She was running even with her wounded and spent body because _he was dying and she would lose him just like her dad. Just because he got too deep in his job._ Akira turned a corner and saw the wreckage everywhere. She had heard the building fall even from the main battlefield. But a pair of figures stood out from the havoc, one a lot more familiar than the other.

"Amon!"

Akira limped toward Amon and the corpse beside him. She contemplated the situation, assessing the damage and solutions in the back of her mind, but she didn't even notice, because _he was alive, he would be fine_. He had his head up, and was moaning lowly. His chest was covered in blood Akira hoped wasn't his own and, distantly, she thought his leg was crushed under a broken pillar. Having made as sure as she could that Amon was alive at the moment (he could be already broken beyond repair), her blue piercing gaze shifted to the corpse beside him. It too moaned, and now that Akira was nearer, she noticed whatever it was, it was shaking violently. It was quite tiny and pitifully thin. It looked weak. The white hairs on his head covered in grind and blood. It looked weak until the moment the female saw the mask sat just beside them, grinning it's lipless grin at her.

Eyepatch.

She didn't feel when she reached out for the communicator on her vest and reported her situation before asking for medical assistance and backup, and neither when her grip on the quinque became white-knuckled.

He– _It_ , she mentally corrected herself, had helped in the murder of her father.

Then why was Amon alive?

No, Amon hadn't just lived, that implied Eyepatch had spared him or that they were in some deal. It was more about how Amon had survived, crushed under tons and tons of concrete.

Now a couple meters closer, Akira could clearly see his leg stuck under a large piece of solid concrete, bleeding profusely. It could be easily moved with the help of a pair of CCG soldiers, but, while Amon was in no way weak, his strength wasn't strong enough to push it off on his own, even if combined with hers.

He was feigning unconsciousness, but that wasn't as important as it was interesting or right down stupid. Maybe the ghoul enjoyed eating his pray alive and would wait until he woke up, so Amon was making time. Akira knew it was a stretch, but it was the only reasonable answer (and the only one that wouldn't throw her in a moral conflict in the middle of such and important moment).

That didn't need her immediate attention though. Eyepatch was staring right back at her. His eyes were deep, strong, but over all, they were sad, scared. She was drowning in a mercury vortex, and on the other side, the crimson stung her eye at the contrast of coal sclera. His features were surprisingly... soft. He looked young, but mature in a way Akira couldn't describe. Damaged even. She would have never imagined that face was behind the mask. She was staring at him so hard, she might burn a hole in him.

If only it were that easy.

The silence was deafening between the three, and the tension was almost palpable. They stood still, contrasting with the ghoul's thunderstorm of tactical analysis and the emotional one she could feel behind her eyes. She would never admit emotions though. She wasn't expected to. _You left some stupidly high standards, didn't you dad?_

The SS rated ghoul was slowly lifting itself up with four shaky limbs, like if he didn't move too much she wouldn't see him.

Her stomach tensed in anticipation and, she would never admit, dread. He had helped in the murder of her father after all. Would she be strong enough? She had to, because there was a high price Akira would make sure Eyepatch would pay.

Akira lunged forward, quinque in hand.

It was fast enough.

The tip of the sharp end of her weapon was impaled in it's torso, and went through it's abdomen. It had barely missed all the internal organs, since he managed to partially dodge the coming attack— No, not dodge, he had swayed from exhaustion and got lucky. It was certainly frustrating, but that didn't compare to her confusion.

The ghoul's eyes were glazed over, but more importantly, they were red and puffy. He wasn't crying, but a pair of tear tracks shone under the light of the moon. He had been crying. What for? Was he crying for himself? For his friends, or allies? For his foiled plan?

Did it matter at all?

Most investigators of the CCG make the mistake of thinking of ghouls as unfeeling, ruthless killers, and while that was mostly true, they also had 'emotions', and Akira wasn't stupid enough to think they didn't have them. They missed their loved ones, they could hate each other, they killed themselves and cared for their young. That was why there were people that were ghouls' allies, because they didn't expect them to be so feeling, so human.

But that didn't mean anything: Animals as naive and useless as rabbits could die of loneliness, and that didn't make them anymore human or deserving of living. Foxes could eat rabbits all they wanted and no-one would have the obligation to care.

Right?

What was even more unsettling was what Eyepatch did after he hit the floor.

He smiled... But it didn't reach his eyes.

It was forced, and not really happy. He had tried to look smug, but he just looked relieved. Maybe he thought he could defeat her easily. Maybe his backup was just around the corner. It had, at least, startled her. Even if she had expected it, she wouldn't have thought that sad tear-stained face would smile wickedly.

He ripped the quinque from himself like it was nothing. Like he did it everyday for breakfast. She gripped the quinque with all her might, should the ghoul rip it from her weakening grip. But the ghoul counted on the strength of her grip.

He pulled the quinque, making her stumble like a newborn deer, and kicked her awkwardly bent knee.

She couldn't stop the gasp of escaping her lips, but Akira ignored the pain, shifted her weight. Her wounds complained with more chips of dry blood.

She lifted her quinque over her head and swung it at the piece of stupid flesh in front of her. The investigator swayed, but the whip continued its course to hit-

Concrete.

Eyepatch had rolled away in the nick of time, and Akira had her whip down, leaving her vulnerable from virtually every direction. It was exactly why inexperienced investigator's weren't supposed to use whip quinques, they were too much time on offense and not enough on defense. The problem with whip quinques is that it made them forget that no matter if they were on defense or offense, they were always in danger, and she had just forgotten.

She braced herself with dread for the Kagune to shoot out of the ghoul that lay on the ground just a meter beside her and impale her unprotected back. _I am sorry father._

But it didn't come.

She opened her squeezed eyes (When had she closed them?) to see the ghoul stumbling just out of her quinque's reach. Like fate was telling her it was his destiny to live and to continue to destroy and kill. Like her father's death had meant absolutely nothing and that only Rabbit was responsible. Like he just wouldn't pay and that it was his place to not do so.

Hell no. _Akira put her subluxed knee in front of her._ That damned ghoul would not just run away. _She limped fast._ He would not just escape her. _Faster_. He was going to pay. _Faster, and faster and-_

She tripped over her damn subluxed knee. Over her weaknesses. Over her dad's corpse. Over her inability to make someone pay. Anyone. Oh god anyone but her.

Thump. Crunch.

" _ **GHAAAAAAAAH**_!" A scream came from the floor in front of her. So broken, painful, desperate, despair, loneliness...

Oh god. Oh god _oh god_. The truth hit her like a bucket of cold water. The water washed away her denial.

Eyepatch had spared Amon. He may even have saved her partner when she didn't. He was too young, he was too hurt... he was- _he was_ -

 

_a ghoul._

_Just a ghoul._

_Nothing more than a beast._

The youth was slumped on the cold hard ground, panting, shaking once more. Akira stood up slowly, it seemed the monster wasn't getting up for a while.

And Akira planned to keep it that way.

The creature directed it's dead gaze up to the sky. Like begging for something- anyone to help him. But, no, monsters don't deserve help. Even if they are so human, and helpless, and pained and- _and_ -

 _No_. Not anymore, not _ever_.

Akira advanced slowly, limping all the way. The ghoul didn't seem to notice, now shuffling away with desperate cries. Cries that didn't pierce through Akira's soul... _They Did Not_. It's frantic movements rattled the wounds over it's body, and the movements came in small bursts of energy. More panic than energy if she was being realistic. It was hyperventilating by the time she reached it. It lay on it's back gingerly and pulled it's legs up in a defensive manner.

That was stupid, and Akira blamed it's wounds for his stupidness before catching herself even if it was just her in her head. Why defend it? Why defend it's pride?

 _Because, he may not be human, but he certainly feels pain just like_ \- No.

That was stupid, since the soldier wielded a whip like quinque. The main reason behind using one was for medium distance attacks. It thought she would be dumb enough to walk too close and be horse kicked away.

She ordered her arms to lift said weapon over her head, and they obliged, albeit slowly. Her shoulder smarted, and Akira responded to it's pleas, accommodating it to better hold their position over her head. She had time to spare.

Eyepatch would pay.

It curled to the tightest ball possible. It dry sobbed, but it was a mixed thing. It seemed relieved. Relieved it would finally die. Akira knew she should have been surprised an SS rated ghoul like Eyepatch would appreciate the darkness of the endless night and welcome the hug of death, but she wasn't. It was also pained, for some reason Akira wouldn't delve in too deeply.

It wasn't time to think about why Eyepatch had done it, or what were his dying wishes, it was time to make him p-

"A-Akira! Get it o-off! O-of me!"

Amon had 'woken up' at a particularly bad time, hadn't he? After all of that was over, Akira would make sure to talk to Amon about it. All of it. And most likely never talk to him again.

She turned around to look again at Eyepatch, but was met with blood covered concrete.

Her body, unable to take anymore, and anticipating Akira's rather reckless decision, shook forcefully. Her wounds burned, as if to remind her they were there, and she had to lock her knees to stop herself from slumping over.

She regained control of her betraying body, but it was long gone by then, fleeing through the extensive alleys and turns of Tokyo. She was left alone with her problems: an unpaid debt, crushed hope and a crushed limb (even if it wasn't hers).

She had become distracted for a single moment, and now Eyepatch had found a way to run from his problems.

Akira wasn't even mad. She was just so... empty. _Nothing_. Like everything meant nothing. Her dad's life that had been leading up to that point was all for nothing; they were just for Eyepatch (or his allies, Akira didn't care anymore) to eat and kill, nothing more. All the hardships, the joy, the despair, the regret—it all led up to that point. And Akira couldn't do a damn thing about it. She was so weak she didn't even make him pay.

Tragedy isn't as bad if fate exists. And it doesn't. Akira could have been stronger. She could have been there fighting along side her father. She could have helped Amon before all of it happened. She could have saved the pride of her dead father.

But she didn't, and it wasn't fate's fault.

It was hers.

Akira walked over to Amon. She had lost enough people in her life to let anybody else go. And it certainly wouldn't be because she wanted to save the pride of her dead father or her need of coping in that unhealthy way.

The investigator bent down and pressed her hands softly against the wounds on his chest, with a hand on his carotid artery. Alive. Weak and unconscious, but he would make it. She pressed down on the wounds, and used a dusted string to make a tourniquet on his leg in an effort to stop his life from seeping away from him, still warm.

Maybe she should concentrate her efforts in keeping people alive rather than avenging dead people.

Her father's last mistake, she would make sure to not commit it too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanksssss to everyoone! (Sorry, I still can't find a list to see all your names [being honest, I haven't looked for one with some actual effort XD], but when I find them, I'll put them)
> 
> Bring the flames!


	4. Rubble Gives Away: Chapter II (Kaneki)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not Revised

The seconds stretched into minutes, and the two figures didn't let each other go. The boy was still slumped on the warm body beneath him, shaking. His face was still covered in cold sweat, and two tear tracks decorated his face. He wasn't crying anymore. Kaneki had cried all the tears he had, like draining a pool of darkness inside him. He felt numb, and surprisingly peaceful. Had the circumstances been safer, he would most certainly be asleep. His eyelids were heavy, and his limbs weary; his eyes burned for the crying, and his heart was pumping to hard in his chest.

But this wasn't even remotely safe. Each second he spent in the other's arms was another second Amon would be getting himself together and kill the monster, or how each second backup was getting nearer and nearer, and, Kaneki had to painfully decide, it probably wouldn't be his backup.

His legs were starting to get back a semblance of strength as he laid on Amon, but his arms weren't fairing as good as them.

_You done with your pity party? You only need your legs to run. He will kill you like he killed Ryouko. Without batting an eye. Run. Escape. Survive._

Kaneki, unlike Amon, couldn't suppress his instincts. They were what had kept him alive the last ten days, why wouldn't he trust them?

He pushed himself away Amon with his neck, since his arms didn't want to cooperate. Amon didn't stop Kaneki from leaving, maybe noticing that he was hugging who they paid him to kill, he supposed. The ghoul rolled off the warmth and landed with a dull thud on the cold floor. It rattled his bones and he grunted in pain. Amon was finally coming to his senses it appeared, as he laid his head back down in silent defeat and moaned weakly, the pain intensifying now that he knew his situation and meditated what to do. Eyepatch was on the floor, getting his bearings and barely holding himself together.

"Amon!"

Oh no.

"A-Akira..." Amon whispered his name in hope and in a bit of a warning tone. Warning who? He could only be warning one perso... one ghoul.

The youth's breath quickened as panic flooded his still shaking body.

But why? Did he really want to live?

_Kill me... please, kill me._

Yes. Yes he did appreciate his life. Wether he did because of the joy of it or the joy he could bring others was another point entirely.

She who Kaneki suppoused was called Akira, seethed at the sight of the ghoul. Kaneki would have thought she ignored Amon completely had it not been for the mumbled request for medical assistance and her sighting of Eyepatch. She was tense, maybe in shock. It had been a long day for them all.

Amon feigned teetering between consciousness and unconsciousness. Kaneki could tell because of his breathing and for his tense leg, signal that he was well aware of everything around him and the pain in his crushed limb. 'Akira' wasn't as observant of him though. Her light blue eyes piercing through Kaneki's face, she was concerned with something else.

Kaneki glared at Akira right back, his episode of panic finally dissipated. He had finally gathered the pieces of the mask that had broken during those unending hours under the rubble. Eyepatch's masks laid all around him, and he chose the blank one. He slipped it on, feeling comfortable behind its familiar support. He was a good actor, and his masks could hide even the tiniest hint of emotion. Was there even an emotion left to hide? He had to wonder.

He knew the only way life as a ghoul worked was to fight. In this world the strong devour the weak, and it would some day be his right to do so, but not today. He wasn't that stupid anymore, he had no chance fighting an investigator, much less with a pair of broken scapulae, clavicles

The silence was deafening between the three, and the tension was almost palpable. They stood still, contrasting with his thunderstorm of tactical analysis and the emotional one he could see in his persecutor's eyes.

If he wanted to get an advantage, he had to move first. It probably would be his only move anyway.

It took all the effort he had to pry his body off the floor, which was accentuated by the fact he had to move as slowly as possible. It was as if Akira was a doe on the light, only that Kaneki was the one going to get killed.

The world turned into silence and the burning of his muscles and bones. He wasn't nearly as weak as he was before. He was more powerful now that Yamori's power ran through his system, he'd be able to escape at least.

Akira lunged forward, quinque in hand.

It was too fast.

The tip of the sharp end of her weapon was impaled in his torso, and went through his abdomen. It had gladly missed all his internal organs, since he managed to partially dodge the coming attack. Kaneki would never admit to himself he was just swaying from exhaustion and got lucky.

Luck was never on his side anyhow.

The ghoul knew he would have felt more than just a tingle, but he seemed to have forgotten how to feel pain. Like when people repeat a word so many times they forget their meaning or when people become immune to poison because their bodies are used to it.

So Kaneki just turned his head to the blond investigator and smiled.

She was just doing her job. She was probably unaware of the dangers of the ghoul world if her hesitation to kill him when she had the chance was anything to stand by. She was baffled by his reaction, but it seemed she expected it.

Eyepatch ripped the quinque out of himself with a brusque pull and pulled the quinque to unbalance the investigator, which send a wave of numbness through his arms and shoulders. He swiped his aching legs under her stable ones, hitting the knee with force in a twisted angle. It would be an easy fight.

There was a tiny pop were his foot had collided with her unsuspecting legs.

Apparently Akira wasn't as an inexperienced dove as Kaneki had first thought. The human ignored her aching leg, and switched her weight to one of the legs. She quickly pulled back her whip and swung the whip Kaneki's way, almost colliding with flesh. Thankfully, the ghoul had rolled away with the little energy he had.

Little energy?

But he hadn't even fought yet. He needed to fight. Fight, fight fight _fight_ \- flee

He needed to leave. With Akira still dazed by the initial shock of concrete instead of the squilchs of flesh giving away, Kaneki propted himself on his four limbs with sheer will power. Akira lifted her quinque again to strike, but in tht short time, the youth had managed to stumble out of the quinque's reach. Akira begun what would be a long chase had it not been for her disloca-

She tripped

Kaneki heard her body hit the floor and a muffled groan when her foot and unsealing wounds slammed to the floor, but didnt do the mistake of looking back to be sure.

He, however, did commit the mistake of tripping. The ghoul fell face first on the merciless ground. Yamori had make him resistant to enormous amounts of pain, but there was no way he could be prepared for what awaited him.

His broken bones shifted in earnest, sending a wave of pain through his sore body, and rattling the flesh wounds on his shoulder and stomach.

He couldn't help it at all

Kaneki screamed.

It was such a pitiful and broken sound, glazed in pain and suffering. Two things Kaneki was so familiar with. The scream slowly died down, and left him breathless and panting.

The investigator was standing up, but it didn't matter. It hurt. It hurt now that his surge of adrenaline was gone, leaving behind a useless and broken husk. The place his stomach used to be was so empty it hurt. His shaking started up again. Kaneki was so hungry. He needed food if he wanted to regenerate or to even be able to escape, but there wasn't anything of sustenance in the area.

Apart from Amon and Akira that is.

No. He wasn't stupid anymore. He wouldn't let his instincts take the wheel. He wasn't stupid and he knew his only chance of survival was escape (albeit, Deep within him, he just didn't want to eat humans anymore, either for good or for ill).

Akira was just steps from where Kaneki lay, and the latter was frantically trying to get away backwards, rather uselessly, considering he had to stop every time the hole in his abdomen decided to make itself noticed. If he was calm about it all before, he was now desperate to escape. His logical side had been erased by pain. He was turned into something simpler than an animal. A being that lived and wanted only one thing.

_Escape._

Kaneki started to hyperventilate, helplessly enchanted by his instincts.

The investigator walked closer.

He lay on his back gingerly and pulled his legs up in a defensive manner.

She was close now.

But it appeared she had also analyzed her possibilities. Instead of walking up to Eyepatch, she stood just when her weapon could reach Kaneki. She was clearly exhausted and wounded.

A wounded and exhausted human was now one of his worries.

_In this world the strong devour the weak. All the suffering in the world is bron from an individual's incompetence._

There was no doubt of it. He was weak. He was weak and doomed to die at the hands of the CCG. Would they take his Kagune and turn it into a quinque? Would they use it to kill his friends? Would they take his Kagune while he was still alive just for fun?

_KAAAANEKI, LOOK AT HOW MUCH FUN IM HAVING!_

The sound came from the inside of his head, not from the outside. Yamori was no-were to be seen. He was just being stupid again. Letting his emotions seep through. But, hadn't he decided he didn't have emotions? It was almost as if they were separate beings that resided within him. Interesting how that 'other half' used to be Rize. The thought bounced in his brain without actually registering. Like the thoughts that kept him from falling into a pit were snapping ropes.

_Escape_. His instincts whispered.

"You can't escape." She warned. Akira lifted her quinque over her head like it was the most heavy thing she had carried.

Kaneki curled in on himself even more, just bracing himself for the final blow. The one that would free him and doom his loved ones. But he was so tired and scared and- it was just too much to bear. This wasn't about the ten days he spent in a little taste of hell, all of it was too much. He just wanted a single day to rest and breathe easy, which he hadn't done even before meeting Rize. Kaneki didn't want to die, but it was as close as he would get to finally resting easy.

Death was inevitable anyway, wasn't it?

Akira shifted a little to acomodate her shoulder. It looked broken, or at least painful. She huffed in annoyance, but, by the scowl she wore on her face, it was clear she was in pain.

_Pain breeds pain in this broken world_.

Kaneki didn't mean the broken bones.

He squeled, like a terrified animal. He was a terrified animal, and his last moments on the face of earth would prove it.

Leaving the world.

It was so final, so empty. So much nothing even thinking about it made him squirm. Maybe he would see mom there? Would the world have enough mercy to permit it? No, of course not. The world was wrong, always wrong.

"A-Akira! Get it o-off! O-of me!"

Amon had 'awoken' just in the right time. It was accidental, and, Kaneki didn't know if to believe his pain was real. Well, of course it was real, but Amon proved to have a good ability to take pain. His reaction had to be real. Amon wouldn't deliberately save a ghoul just because it had done something that reassembled human.

Right?

Akira was startled, just for a second, but enough for Kaneki. He kicked the air, and turned on his stomach, crawling like a slug. _Or like a centipede_ , his mind added uselessly.

He lifted himself of the floor on his three of his limbs. He knew if he dared to put weight on his right arm, the scapula would completely leave his skin. He had good pain tolerance, but that would make his arm virtually useless.

He used the word useless too many times to describe himself.

Before his other arms even caught up to what their owner was trying to do, his legs kicked the floor as he raced down the street.

Akira, exhausted, had to give up the ghoul and, having nothing better to do, tended to his partner; Kaneki was unaware of everything except the concrete under his feet and the blood running down his back.

He ran and ran. He didn't even see where he was headed. He ran like it would take him out of his tragic excuse of his life. Like if running from his problems would solve them.

He ran until his injuries caught up with him and he began to lose speed. Until he couldn't see Akira moving debris from Amon's leg.

He ran into an alley, and leaned against a wall. Smearing hot blood on the white walls. The ghoul was hit by a dizzy spell that send his bloody form spiraling to the ground. He had lost too much blood. And he was so hungry.

He grunted when his wounds hit the floor, a weak noise that even he had a hard time hearing. Then again, he could barely see anything let alone hear.

Anteiku. He had to get to Anteiku.

_I will help them._

The borders of his view turned black, and the kakugan retracted to the back of his eyes. Unconsciousness nagged at the back of his mind, and before his eyes peeled back to his head, he heard a voice as clear as day:

_Surrender_

And surrender he did, his last thoughts not being about how he had just doomed his friends with his incompetence, but rather, a sunny day working at Anteiku. Hide joking in the background. The manager behind him looking at his employees like they were their kids. Hinami running to him book in hand. Koma telling Irimi about his time as the Devil Ape. Touka by his side.

So beautiful and fragile, like a glass shattering.

_Im sorry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeey there! Before anything: please answer this question in the reviews, I really need it if I am planning to write another chapter:
> 
> Would you like to read Amon POV of the same situation or would it be too repetitive? (If I don't write Amon POV, the next chapter might be Hide or Arima POV even though this was supposed to be Amon centric. The important parts of Amon POV would be added in the aftermath of aaaaall of COI)
> 
> Also, do you want to see Hide cinnamon sunshine roll in this fic?
> 
> please, answer in the comments! And if you got any other ideas you would like to see, don't hesitate to tell them to me (since I've got little idea of where I'm taking this) (don't worry tho, I DO have an ending and stuff)
> 
> Bring the flames!

**Author's Note:**

> This has already been published over at FanFiction.net, if you are greedy and want to see the next three chapters, they are already there. (I had planned to make a one-shot, but not anymore apparently)


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